


When the whole world fits inside of your arms

by dispatch



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M, pre-existing relationship, them being silly bored idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:38:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2128761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dispatch/pseuds/dispatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My running theory is that it’s some big grand scheme to try and take over Gotham,” Tim says gravely, “But that is probably my wishful thinking.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the whole world fits inside of your arms

**Author's Note:**

> The summary is a lie. This is a belated B-Day present for taralys over on tumblr. Title is once again from the song that I am listening to right this second since I have no creativity - Banana Pancakes by Jack Johnson.

“Oh my god,” Sydney, one of the event planners for the fundraiser, leaned over the broken glass. “Should we call the cops?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dick nodded. He moved around her to stare at the broken window into the boat house. The air muggy and thick, he’s surprised anyone had even managed to get the energy to do anything at all in this heat. “I hope nothing was stolen.” He really hoped something was stolen; and immediately felt guilty at the thought. Crime rate was at a record low because of the heat, which was good. But he was bored, which was bad.

Turns out a lot of things were stolen: mostly the items that were going up for silent auction for the fundraiser the next week.

Tim hovers behind him, fingers twitching as he stares at the scene. Dick wants to grin at him. Rough his hair up. Beside him Sydney bounced onto her toes to stare in the window as well. He should probably be more serious, he muses. Doesn’t let himself pull Tim into a noogie.

“This is a job for a detective,” Tim enthuses. Dick chokes on a laugh, tries to cover with a cough. Serious situation, he tells himself. Sydney looks at him, distraught. Dick has to turn away from Tim and his dorky everything before he cracks up. Pulls his phone out and calls the cops.

*

“This is a job for a detective,” Dick snickered. Tim dropped his head onto the table with a dull thunk. Dick could see the tips of his ears turning red. Dick slouches till his legs stretch out across the diner booth. Bumps Tim’s knee till Tim glances up shyly. Dick grins. Keeps grinning till Tim’s mouth quirks in a small shy smile in return. Hey there, he thinks fondly.

“It just came out.” Tim rubs the back of his neck. “But it was, like, delivered. Right in our laps. I was excited that we actually get to do something.”

“Yeah, it’s been kind of quite.” Dick nods. They quite down as the waitress shows up with their food. Dick steals Tim’s fries and uses them to scoop out some of his chocolate milkshake. Tim’s face screws up in disgust. Dick leers and ignores the affront on his food choices. “Doesn’t B have you staking out the bank though? Do you think you can manage this too?”

Tim kicks him when he snags another fry, and pulls the plate closer till he’s huddled over it like a Tim shaped wall against fry thieves. “The bank is a bust. I think I can get him to have the snot do it.”

“Pretty sure Dami doesn’t want it either.”

“I’ll say it will be a training exercise. Watch me. I’ll convince him. I’ll make a power point,” Tim bares his teeth, challenge accepted.

*

Bruce has an open door policy with all his kids. Though it’s not really a door policy, but more like a open window policy. Actually, all his kids know how to shimmy a lock and he hasn’t gotten around to (and maybe doesn’t want to) really stopping them from invading his personal space at all hours of the day.

Either way, a locked door and having been asleep did not stop Tim from showing him that power point presentation. Dick sympathies with the barely noticeable half second delay in responses in Bruce’s sleep deprived state; except, he kind of egged Tim on in the first place. 

“What will it teach Damian?” Bruce manages to ask as he stares at Tim. The power point isn’t much, but Dick gave Tim five minutes to make it before dragging him to the manor. Tim makes up for what it’s lacking with enthusiasm.

“That patience is a virtue,” Tim clicks to the next slide cheerily, the text on the screen just being ‘patience’ with fireworks around it. Dick elbows him, so Tim adds, “He hasn’t had to do his own stake out recently, right? The experience will be good for him.”

Bruce stares at them both long and hard before sighing, dropping back onto the bed and scrub his face with both hands. Tim makes a victory fist pump.

*

“Damian says he is thankful for the opportunity and he loves you,” Dick tells Tim as he thumbs through his texts.

“Uh huh. So he actually says I’m going to pay and he hates me,” Tim doesn’t even look up from where he is watching the news.

“Exactly that. On your first guess too, I’m impressed.”

*

“So… We’re looking for something suspicious,” Dick says helpfully; rocks back on his heels and grins at Tim.

Tim has a mask on but his forward crinkles and he would totally be frowning except how his lips keep twitching as he tries not to smile. “I’m not even going to bother with a response.” 

“Aha,” Dick points at him victoriously, “That was a response though.” Tim ignores him and marches towards the pond behind the boat house. Dick trails behind him.

“No one saw the thieves leave during the party, so they would have had to come through here,” Tim examined the bank.

“Why do you think they chose a fundraiser to case, though?” Dick questioned, walking the perimeter of the building. “There are bigger things to go after. And things easier to hawk then a one of a kind bust of Brad Pitt for that matter.”

“My running theory is that it’s some big grand scheme to try and take over Gotham,” Tim says gravely, “But that is probably my wishful thinking.” He walks around the mud before stopping abruptly, “I think there’s something in the bush.”

A breathy hissing noise picked up Dick glanced over to where Tim was peering into the bushes. “Wait-“ Dick began, Tim taking a reflexive half step forward. Yelps and falls backward, stormed by wings and beak and probably very sharp teeth. Tim scrambles up the bank and takes off, a very angry goose chasing him.

“Run faster, little brother!” Dick cackles. Then, “Oh, wait. There’s actually is something in the bush.”

*

“I can’t believe they dropped their phone,” Tim muses after Dick had dug the cell phone out of the goose’s nest, both having (relatively) safely evacuated the area of the angry nesting goose. 

“It still has some battery,” Dick thumbed through it, “Hey, looks like someone – a John the F-ing Bastard apparently - has been calling them a lot. Do you think it’s-“

Tim yanked it from his hands. Smashing the screen with a manic grin, “Let’s try!” Then the phone is glued to his ear. Dick steps closer till he can feel Tim’s heat through the thick protective fabric and so his ear is pressed against the other side of the phone.

“God damn it, Marty. Annie says you’ve been avoiding me and if you even think of running off with the pieces I’m going to chase you down and-“ The tinny voice screams over the phone.

Is this for real? Dick has to wonder as he pulls back to see Tim’s face light up. Can people really be that sloppy? Tim is beaming as he interrupts the caller. “Hi! Oh, sorry. Yeah, I found this phone in the park. Do you want me to come and- Uh huh. Of course! See you soon.” Tim ends the calls and just stands there. Grinning like a loon as Dick lightly traces the seams of his uniform down his sides. “They are horrible at this.” Tim says it like it’s the best thing ever. Then he spins around, pulling Dick with him as he marches toward the road calling, “To John’s house!”

*

“This is probably the ugliest one of a kind bust of Brad Pitt I’ve ever seen,” Dick admits later. Marty’s angry muffled yells come out around the gag from where he’s hog tied in the middle of his living room.

“The thing people call art these days.” Tim’s shrug is elaborate. John glowers at them from where he is equally tied up in the corner.

*

In the morning, Dick shoves Tim off to his side of the bed as he digs for the phone. He’s like a starfish, really: how he somehow migrates across the mattress without appearing to move. Tim grumbles half asleep nonsense when Dick pulls the phone out from under the mattress (how did it even get there?) triumphantly. When he answers he tries to sound fascinated as Sydney excitedly rambles about how the thieves and silent auction items were found.

“Hey, do you think you could put me down for a bid on that Brad Pitt bust?” It pulls up the event planner up short.

“I didn’t know you liked art, Mr. Grayson.” She sounds mostly amused.

“Yeah. It’s not really my thing. But I think Bruce will love it.”


End file.
